#wot fanfiction

[butterflydm]

Chapters: 3/15 Fandom: The Wheel of Time (TV), Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rand al'Thor/Mat Cauthon, Rand al'Thor/Aviendha/Mat Cauthon/Elayne Trakand Characters: Rand al'Thor, Mat Cauthon, Min Farshaw Additional Tags: spoilers through book 9: winter’s heart, for the majority of the fic, spoilers through book 12: the gathering storm, for one major spoiler, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fate swap, Perrin blew the Horn of Valere AU, mat defended the two rivers AU, Mat is Rand's Warder AU, minor rand al’thor/min farshaw, minor siuan/moiraine, minor lan/nynaeve, birgitte is nynaeve's warder AU, rand is a dreamer AU Series: Part 15 of voice in the back of my head Summary: Rand and his companions organize to deal with the Seanchan on the West Coast, the Dark One's touch on the weather, and the corruption that taints the One Power -- hoping to strike before the Shadow's forces can learn their plans.

 Sometimes Rand argued with himself.

Deira Bashere had mentioned that when Mat had first arrived in Illian. It wasn’t something new, but it did seem to be getting worse. He talked back to the memories — to the voice — of Lews Therin in his head.

[demonscantgothere]

Feint. Moiraine Damodred/Lan Mandragoran. T-rated. 1,807 words [1/1] This is only a short little thing, but I may write more. Dipping my toes into the water!

After the defeat of Ishamael, Lan realizes Moiraine needs to rely on more than just the One Power to guide her. Rand may have removed the knot, but another Forsaken may put a second one in place one day, and if that day comes, Moiraine must be ready.

Lan’s eyes trail down the length of the staff, his gaze catching on the cuts and dents and imperfections hammered into the wood—beaten into it with a fine precision of blood, sweat, and tears—his fingers enclosing one by one in a slow dance around the rough cord wrap of the handle in the center. His wrist twirls the staff through the air in a steady circle that hums with each spin, his eyes peering through the wheel it creates between them—meeting Moiraine’s eyes on the other side, her gaze narrowing in on him with a honing precision she reserves for her channeling.

There’s no channeling here tonight.

The One Power be banned, Lan insisted on it. No, there was no One Power here tonight—only man power. Only hands and fists. Only feet and knees. Only elbows and chins.

Only blood and sweat.

Lan’s eyes trail down the length of the staff, his gaze catching on the cuts and dents and imperfections hammered into the wood—beaten into it with a fine precision of blood, sweat, and tears—his fingers enclosing one by one in a slow dance around the rough cord wrap of the handle in the center. His wrist twirls the staff through the air in a steady circle that hums with each spin, his eyes peering through the wheel it creates between them—meeting Moiraine’s eyes on the other side, her gaze narrowing in on him with a honing precision she reserves for her channeling.

There’s no channeling here tonight.

The One Power be banned, Lan insisted on it. No, there was no One Power here tonight—only man power. Only hands and fists. Only feet and knees. Only elbows and chins.

Only blood and sweat.

Moiraine twirls her own staff with less grace than him, attempting to keep her eyes on him while bettering her technique. Physical combat is not her strong suit. She has always relied on the One Power to guide her and protect her. She has always relied on Lan’s sword to guard her.

Her plight with Ishamael’s knot on her taught her the One Power would not always be there to save her. Rand untangled the knot, but now that they know it can be tied—what if it happens again?

“Shoulders up,” Lan instructs her, and Moiraine narrows her eyes further, an indignant glare in his direction through the two wheels the staves are creating in between them—but she raises her shoulders all the same, straightening out her arm and holding her staff at a better angle with more control in the grip. Her fingers clench around the rough-spun rope of the handle.

“I know how to hold myself,” Moiraine taunts back, her voice deep but melodious in reply. Never one shy of confidence, even when she is not quite sure of what she is doing.

The corner of Lan’s mouth quirks up at her, a teasing smirk. “Of course,” he agrees quietly, his voice just as low as hers—and haunting, full of the hunt he finds in the fight.

He lowers his chin. Catches his staff all of a sudden, stilling it, and Moiraine’s eyes flick to the staff first, cutting off of him and losing sight of his bodily movements.

Lan flies in for the first strike, staff raised high—and drops it down too soon, spinning in the air and swinging in the from the side instead—a feint.

His staff collides into Moiraine’s side before she can block his attack. It’s not hard enough to hurt her, but it’s hard enough to shove her away from him. Moiraine stumbles and catches herself quite gracefully in response, spinning around to face him with her staff raised horizontally as a guard between them, both hands on the wood to steady it, her dark hair whirling all around her shoulders as she comes face to face with him.

Bright eyes, a wild thing with injury and determination in the gleam of her gaze. Moiraine spins her staff, her footwork taking her away from him in a dance around the room as she keeps her eyes on him this time.

If there is one thing Moiraine excels at, it’s footwork.

Lan feels himself grinning at her, and that only turns her lips into a thin line of resolve as she tips her head backwards and throws her whole body into it next, whirling around along with her staff—and almost catching him in the back.

Lan blocks her swing with a loud crack of his staff against hers—and shoves her back again, putting his weight into it and knocking Moiraine back.

She catches herself on the heels of her boots and whips her head back, swinging her hair out of her face as she scoffs at him. “Playing dirty, are we?”

Lan tips his head as he shrugs his shoulders. “It’s the only way to play—”

With his staff behind his back, Moiraine almost doesn’t expect it—the way he swings it out of nowhere and hits her square in the chest with it.

Moiraine hisses like animal—shoves back at him, and Lan smirks, but he lets it happen. Lets Moiraine get the upper hand long enough to growl at him with gritted teeth, the tip of her staff sliding off of his and landing against his shoulder. Moiraine shoves with her fist and uses her free hand like she means to raise it, means to channel—

Lan rears back and slams his staff sideways into hers, leaning closely into her face. “We said no channeling,” he murmurs pointedly, raising his eyebrow. He feels the sweat trickle down the corner of his eye, and Moiraine returns the quirk of his eyebrow with her own.

“Oh?” she says heatedly, as if she doesn’t know any better. “Well, maybe I should—”

—Play dirty, Lan hears the thought she never says out loud as Moiraine cracks her forehead straight into his, pounding the thought into him like a hammer to a nail.

He growls at the headbutt, but she’s got better footwork—and Moiraine hooks her ankle around his and trips Lan, angling her staff to shove the corner of it into his shoulder. The equal motions work together to slam him down onto his back against the hard stone below their feet, knocking the wind out of him.

Moiraine moves quickly to untangle her feet from his, but it’s not fast enough. Lan clamps his shins around her ankle before she can pull it free and trips her, too. Moiraine falls to the ground in heap of blue, and Lan jolts upright and crawls over her, gets the upperhand—and they are a tangle of limbs struggling against each other, grips slipping, legs scrambling, and—

Moiraine bursts out laughing. Head tipped back onto the stone, her face wrinkled into pure ecstasy—she laughs like she doesn’t have a care in the whole world, and Lan can’t help himself. He starts laughing, too. Moiraine drops into a straight face out of nowhere and shoves at him, and he, too, immediately stops laughing long enough to tighten his grip and lock her back down, but he almost loses his grip on her as he slips sideways and catches himself.

Moiraine bursts out laughing again, grinning from ear to ear, her dark hair a wild curtain all around the stone beneath her head. With her cheeks flushed pink with exertion, the rest of her face is pale. Suddenly, she heaves in breaths through her open mouth, and Lan finds he has to do the same.

She turns her head to look at him, rolling over onto her hair. “Left, right, feint,” Moiraine heaves at him. “You’re too predictable.”

Lan raises his eyebrows. “It’s an art form,” he heaves out in return, just as winded. “It should be predictable. There are techniques to follow.”

“Left, right, feint—” Moiraine squeals as Lan dives in to tickle her.

“—Shut up,” Lan hisses with a grin, “or I’ll make you regret it—”

“—That’s—not—part—of—the—technique—!”

Another high-pitched squealhits the air, and Moiraine flings herself over onto her stomach, trying to roll away from him, but Lan scoops her into his arms like she weighs nothing—as light as a baby. Tiny little thing in comparison to him, and he doesn’t care how unsanctimonious it is to hold an Aes Sedai in this manner.

He’s her Warder. He can hold her however he likes.

Moiraine glares at him, petulant. “Let me go,” she easily orders.

“No,” Lan says, just as petulant.

“You can’t hold me like this forever,” Moiraine shoots back.

“Says who?”

Her eyes go wide. “Lan, you wouldn’t.”

He cocks one eyebrow at her. “Says who?”

“Lan—”

He throws her over his shoulder, and Moiraine lands there with an oomph. Lan starts striding towards the door of the training room with her thrown over his shoulder, his arm locking her legs down in place against his chest.

“Lan, don’t make me—”

He pauses halfway to the door. “Don’t make you what?”

“Don’t make me—”

“—I think it’s time for a bath,” Lan says all of a sudden, cutting her off, a curious look spreading across his face. “What do you say, Moiraine?” he asks her casually—as if she isn’t dangling over his shoulder halfway down onto his back.

Moiraine pauses in her struggle, seeming to forget all about it. “Hmm, you do make a fine point,” she agrees, all of the fight gone out of her. Lan glances over his shoulder down at her. Moiraine scrunches her nose at him, making a face. “You do smell like a horse,” she teases.

Lan gasps—a mock gasp. There isn’t a drop of offense in him. “And you,” he says right back, “smell like a squirrel.”

Moiraine gasps in return. “How dare you—” She lifts her head, tips her hair back. Her eyes are wide and expectant. “But a very cute squirrel, yes?”

Lan purses his lips, nodding in agreement. “Absolutely,” he says with far too much seriousness in his tone. “A very cute, feral squirrel.”

Moiraine purses her lips right back and turns away from him, reaching out and patting his bottom in return—as if his response has made everything better. “All right, then,” she teases. “Come on, let’s go.”

It is a gesture that would make anyone else raise their eyebrows to see such mannerisms between the two of them, but for them, it is commonplace. They are comfortable enough with each other, and intimate enough with each other as well, that none of these things are out of place for them, and Lan smirks at her reply as he carries her out of the door and down the hall towards the washroom, Moiraine swinging behind him with her chin in her hand as she waves at people with the other while they pass them by.

When they make it to the washroom, Lan has the bright idea to slip Moiraine down into his arms, cradling her for a moment as they smile across at one another—before he chucks her, clothes and all, into the wash tub with a splash of water everywhere.

Moiraine squeals again with her laughter, loud and clear. Now that they are out of the training session, the rule of no channeling no longer applies. Before Lan knows it, Moiraine channels a wave of water into the air—and throws it straight onto him, sending water flying everywhere throughout the washroom.

Water dripping his chin, Lan raises his eyes at her. “This means war,” he says.

Over the rim of the wash tub as she sinks halfway down to hide herself, Moiraine only grins.

[cxsmiicc]

i just wanna read this fic tf you mean i have to write it first

[shaylogic]

Based on comments on my prior fanfic poll

[pillowfriends]

wheel of time ficlet: rare

425 words, rated Teen

SUMMARY: Days or weeks after the Last Battle, Moiraine struggles to share a meal with Siuan.

SPOILERS: full series-ish but canon divergent

TRIGGER WARNINGS: PTSD, violence (including violence against and by loved ones)

-

the random word generator combined with my Moiraine & food brainrot strikes again, but this time in a fucked-up way. I needed to write some angst to balance out all the sorority AU fluff. hopefully this is the right level of incoherent - editing was a bitch.

There's blood on her dinner plate.

“Moiraine?”

She needs to move her hands. Needs to pretend better, to bring fork to mouth like a person would. Needs to move – move, burn you, tendons and muscles and bones and everything that builds a living thing, move –

“Are you all right?”

Voice from far away, echoing through bone-white hallways. Siuan’s voice. Siuan who loves her in novice white in a narrow bed, loves her in Accepted stripes studying in candlelight. Siuan who sleeps clinging to Moiraine like a barnacle, almost like she needs Moiraine as desperately as Moiraine needs her. Siuan’s voice, a rope to cling to.

No matter if the rope is real. The Finn may snatch it away again, but for now it’s something to hold. Her palms are hungry, even for falseness. Hungry to rest on something warm and wanting. Even if she’ll be faced with the burn of the rope slipping through her hands –

Her hands. She needs to move them. Needs to put on a show of being human again.

“Yes.” With difficulty, her mouth shapes the word. Mouth, far away, chapped lips, dry tongue. Her hands move, finally, sawing off another piece of steak.

Meat. Blood. Pink. In Cairhien, there was blood at the twitch of a hand. She remembers it, remembers being the victim and the cause. Countless daggers in the heart, countless men and women frothing pink at the mouth from something slipped in the wine. Odorless, colorless, discreet, except on the rare occasions open blood served daes dae'mar better.

Here blood drips from knife to plate, pooling. Violent revelry, celebrated slaughter. How curious. There always used to be more blood, when the knife was in Lan’s hands, when the knife was in Lan’s chest, when she slid the knife across Siuan's throat.

“Moiraine. Love.” Hands tugging at hers – whose hands? What are they doing to her now? She doesn’t have the strength to pull away. “What do you need? Tell me what you need.”

She needs a clear path to the throne. Needs to find the Dragon before the Reds do. Needs Siuan to kiss her in the library before lessons. Needs Siuan to marry her. Needs Lan to make her dinner. Needs Lan to stop hurting her. Needs to wash the blood from her mouth. Needs –

A warm hand on her cheek – oh, oh, Siuan’s hand. Calluses – Siuan’s calluses. Clarity, however brief.

The Last Battle is over. She’s with Siuan. Siuan loves her. It's dinnertime.

“Could –” she forces out. “Could you cook my meat all the way through?”

[sercophe-sinderwidth]

Meanwhile, Moiraine in the future:

"—And I love my wife very much."

[thatordinaryoddity]

I did the thing again, the thing where I start writing unnecessary and very self-indulgent crossovers, oops

Summary:

In 1890s America, rugged outlaw Siuan and lone huntress Moiraine meet in the wilderness. What begins as a conflict over a deer turns into a shared journey filled with danger and shadowed by secrets from their pasts.

This is a Red Dead Redemption 2 x WoT crossover/AU nobody has asked for.

[shukakumoodboard]

Oh daaamn! ‘from these bones, untethered’ sounds SO COOL!! Infodump to me as much or as little as you’d ant about it, I am intrigued (ominous)

this one is already partially published! it was my entry for gaalee horrorfest 2022 and is based on the plot of the insidious (2010). i wrote the whole outline on paper in 10 minutes at my desk in the middle of a forest fire (#casual) back when i had a Big Kid Job, but haven’t written anything past the first chapter. horror is my weakest genre and i am a weak baby when it comes to scary movies, but i can tell you i just looked at my outline for the next chapter and

what the hell am i talking about? find out next time on dragonball z

[vinylandcoffeecollection]

A wall of Matty Healy looking babygirl AF.

This is my favourite Matty. Oh shit, this is why I write Gatty isn’t it? It’s not that deep!

[susandnymm]

The whole little family! Lan, Nynaeve, Mandarb, and Caba - character art as I imagine them for Reborn.

And now that I have the whole set, though I'm tempted to redo Book Lan now that I've had practice, the project temporarily feels complete enough to shift back to writing again. (No joke, I am kind of a completionist I guess and couldn't settle down until I had done them all :'D )

Reborn (178827 words) by Susan_D_Nymm Chapters: 36/? Fandom: The Wheel of Time (TV), Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Nynaeve al'Meara/Lan Mandragoran, Lan Mandragoran & Mandarb

[butterflydm]

Chapters: 1/15 Fandom: The Wheel of Time (TV), Wheel of Time - Robert Jordan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rand al'Thor/Mat Cauthon, Rand al'Thor/Aviendha/Mat Cauthon/Elayne Trakand Characters: Rand al'Thor, Mat Cauthon, Elayne Trakand, Aviendha (Wheel of Time), Nynaeve al'Meara, Moiraine Damodred, Egwene al'Vere, Perrin Aybara, Faile Bashere, Min Farshaw, Verin Mathwin, Gawyn Trakand, Ishamael | Moridin Additional Tags: spoilers through book 9: winter’s heart, for the majority of the fic, spoilers through book 12: the gathering storm, for one major spoiler, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Fate swap, Perrin blew the Horn of Valere AU, mat defended the two rivers AU, Mat is Rand's Warder AU, minor rand al’thor/min farshaw, minor siuan/moiraine, minor lan/nynaeve, birgitte is nynaeve's warder AU, rand is a dreamer AU Series: Part 15 of voice in the back of my head

Rand and his companions organize to deal with the Seanchan on the West Coast, the Dark One's touch on the weather, and the corruption that taints the One Power -- hoping to strike before the Shadow's forces can learn their plans.

“They wish to swear their loyalty to the Dragon Reborn?” Elayne repeated, not able to hide her astonishment. “You are certain.”

“Quite certain,” Verin said. “Several of them would be prepared to swear today if given the chance. Perhaps by the time the Dragon returns to Cairhien, they will all be ready.”

[lenobyahhon]

This fucking episode was a fucking roller coaster for us siuaraine shippers

It’s brilliant for where the story goes in The Shadow Rising, but I’m so heartbroken?!?!

[cxsmiicc]

dead broke and broken hearted - lanfear x female dragon

first wot fic so sorry if anythings inaccurate and whatnot, had sm fun writing this uhhh yeah!!

5.8k words, ao3 link in title

smut, fluffy aftercare, choking, mistress kink if you squint, fingering, eating out, wlw ofc, think thats it??

Waiting. The innkeeper act left plenty to fill the hours, but that was secondary to this. To the Dragon. Ellyse, as she was now known. Had Lews Therin been reincarnated a man once again her job would be far easier, though notably less fun, she supposed idly. Seduction had hardly been her original plan for turning her to the Dark, but that first - and second - look she had given ‘Selene’ was enough to solidify it as the best option. It had been delightful to learn that it would scarcely take much on her part to slip between the poor girl’s sheets, she was short of coin the very first week in Cairhien. Light allusions and a lingering look aimed at her chest coloured her cheeks faintly pink and encouraged embarrassed mutterings, but her eyes were alight with the idea; so like his had been she almost had to turn away. In the progressing weeks it was made clear that Ellyse and Lews Therin were both more alike and different than she knew, from the creases around her eyes when she smiled heartachingly similar, to the things that led to that smile flipped entirely on their head. Where he led, she was content to follow, though not without ensuring choice words made their way to whoever was in charge; his pride was her insecurity. That could be worked on, it simply wouldn’t do to have a Dragon too bothered by self doubt to make use of. Raw power was nothing without control, and the willingness to use it when required, or rather for Ellyse to when it pleased Lanfear.

Coming back to herself, she realised the time and whipped wind through her hair, mussing it in such a way she knew Ellyse would adore, giving her clothes similar treatment. Far be it for her to get in such a state voluntarily, but then Lews had always preferred her somewhat unkempt, yet another thing that had survived in Ellyse. Not a moment after she had settled herself to face the door, settled herself into being Selene for the night, Ellyse entered, tripping on the broken sole of her boot in her haste. The candle had done its job after all, in announcing her plans for tonight. She let a slow, sly smile play across her lips and simply watched the other woman’s reaction, leaning back on one elbow as pure want spread through her. Even in this low lighting her infatuation was evident, eyes raking over her body, gaze lingering on the stray hair and twisted skirts that were oh so meticulously prepared exactly for this purpose, to entice. That was the aim of this entire endeavor, after all. Lure the Dragon to the Dark. Lure the dragon to her.

Said Dragon was busying herself with her boots, tugging the knotted laces as she discarded the ruined footwear.

“You put in word for another week.”

Winning the battle with the gnarled string, she turned and responded, “Is that going to be an issue?” Her tone was concerned, but the slight upturn of her mouth betrayed her true thoughts.

“Mmmmm,” She dragged the sound out as long as she could, delighting in how Ellyse hung on every vibration. Raising both arms and arching her back, she continued. “Shouldn’t be, provided you continue being so timely with payments.”

Shoes long forgotten, she was already making her way over, painting on a smile to rival Lanfear’s own. “I wouldn’t dream of being late, my lady.”

“Enough of these games.” Growing impatient with her pace, she forced her closer with saidar, crashing their lips together hard. This, this would never change. The ecstasy of having her love so close, the yearning for them to be closer still, to dash the rest of the world to pieces or bow everyone to her will, if only it meant more of this. One day, her Dragon would know this feeling too, one day soon if she was already as taken as she seemed. She was rougher than he had been - at least at first. Less scared of hurting her, more eager for her own satisfaction rather than focusing on what Selene needed. Yet another thing to be working on.

Manoeuvring them in such a way that she was above, she once again summoned the wind, this time to push apart the pins of Ellyse’s corset, lifting her weight slightly so that it fell beneath them and slid to the ground, using the same momentum to drive her thin undershirt over her head. The torn fabric tangled in her hair for a moment, off white against fiery red before it dropped into the depths under the bed with the corset. She giggled at this, bare chest heaving with breathless laughter.

“How you do that so fast I will never understand, it takes me years to get in and out of it.”

The smirk was back as she moved onto the lower portion of the dress, made easier by a lack of petticoats.

“I’d be more than happy to assist, but I fear I’d be reluctant to see it put back on.”

Whatever witty response she was sure to come out with was quickly silenced by the groan of pure desire Lanfear let out at the sight of her underthings, soaked through onto her thighs. Her Dragon was hers, and she took the time to appreciate it, slipping forward until she was straddling her hips, running the tips of her fingers idly over her sides, stopping before she could touch anywhere Ellyse truly wanted her to. She got bored of this rather quickly it seemed, reaching for her hands presumably to force her to touch her somewhere more interesting, but she wasn’t in charge here. Pinning her hands behind her head, Lanfear leaned in, letting her hair trail over the girl’s chest as she did so, giving some illusion of friction.

“No. You will wait, and if I decide that you deserve it you shall get something, but not before I am sated. Do you understand?”

Her pupils blew impossibly wider as she choked out agreement, but a mere “Y-yes,” wasn’t enough. Not tonight.

“Yes what?”

“Yes I understand, nothing for me until you’re satisfied, mistress.”

“That’s my girl.” She may not have known the depth of her belonging then, but she would. The Dragon was hers, in this life and ages past and in every one to come. As the Wheel turned, so she willed.

In the blink of an eye her dress was over her head and discarded elsewhere, the one underskirt she had on swiftly torn off and thrown. A wriggle of her hips had her lined up over Ellyse’s mouth, hovering even while arousal dripped down her cheeks, waiting to see what she would do. Much to her pleasure, her arms came up to wrap around her thighs, forcing her all the way down and reaching out with her tongue before she could get properly settled. She dropped with a lewd moan, revelling in the feeling of having this again, of being wanted, desired again. Ellyse knew, the way he always had, what she needed. Pushing until she was on the verge of breaking, then finding some new way to drag sounds she had no idea she was capable of making from the base of her throat, sucking hard at her clit and forcing her to grip the headboard until her knuckles grew white, hips still maintaining their fervid pace while her ecstasy dripped down the Dragon’s face, still supported by her sure grip. Relinquishing her hold on the bed, she gripped her arm, still wrapped around her thigh and the only reason she was still upright, squeezing hard and falling back ever so slightly.

Ever so slightly out of breath she asked, “Mmmmm, do you think you deserve your turn?”

The muffled voice replied, “Not up to me,” eyes on her the entire time.

That reverent look was precisely what she craved, the one who had so long ago denied her now thinking solely of her pleasure. She would do anything, anything, to keep it this way, she swore in that moment. Ellyse would know her true name before long, no matter what may have to happen to make that come to pass. Not that she would admit it, but there were easier ways than this innkeeper ploy to get to Ellyse. Plain old kidnapping, Compulsion, though she had never held Graendal’s fondness for the art, or even merely running into her on the road would have been easier. This way provided her with not only an end goal, but an escape along with it. As Mierin, she was held atop a pedestal, Lews Therin’s lover, as powerful as a woman could be in the power, yet never quite distinguished enough for a third name. No matter. As Lanfear, she wasn’t forsaken, but chosen. A creature of stories, the stuff of legends. Fitting for someone who was born in the age of them. Among the most powerful channelers of any age, and all paled in comparison to the imponderabilia of her allure. But Selene, Selene was different in that she was no different than any other innkeeper in Cairhien, at least at first glance. Selene was an ordinary woman, burdened only with the worries that plagued the rest of the city, of failed crops and lousy patronage. To be able to escape into nothing but sensation, to lose herself while riding someone else, that was the bliss she craved but could never quite achieve in her other personas.

Sliding back down, “Oh you are good for me aren’t you,” she said as she pressed her lips back onto Ellyse’s, greeted by the taste of herself thick on her tongue. She kissed and was kissed until nothing of her pleasure remained between them, and only then did she aim lower. Sinking her teeth into her Dragon’s neck, where she knew it would be seen above even the higher necklines she favoured, pressing and sucking at the sting to soothe the ache. These marks would last, all the better for the Aes Sedai that would undoubtedly rear their heads soon to see just how completely she controlled their precious tool. Again and again she latched on, until her shoulders were littered with purpling bruises leading gradually downwards, from the underside of her jaw to the beginnings of her décolletage. All the while Ellyse scarcely made a sound, as was her custom. Where Selene was loud about her pleasure, she was quiet, all whispered curses and muttered obscenities, sayings from Shienar and Falme, Saldea and Tear, all jumbled together in a passionate exclamation that would garner stares from even the most foul mouthed of sailors. Yet not once did she invoke the Light. Never since arriving in Cairhien. Never since leaving those who fought most fervently for it. Never since the Aes Sedai Moiraine had been stilled at the Eye of the World. A number of explanations for this presented themselves to Lanfear, ranging from tenable to inane. In a perfect world, she was ready to forsake the Light, swear her oaths to the Dark, and stay with her for ages come to pass. That, of course, was exceedingly unlikely, but it would never do to rule out ones best option. Whatever the reason, this habit lent hope to her mission and ulterior motives alike. Even if she wasn’t ready to walk the shadow completely, pulling the Dragon from directly following the path of the Light was a major step, and one bound to lead to a next.

Dropping her focus lower still, she wrapped her lips around the tip of her breast, again biting, ruining the flesh for anyone’s mouth but her own, revelling in the carte blanche Ellyse had given to her on that very first night, the first time the gold had failed to appear. One hand rose to pull at the side of her chest left unmarred, eliciting more soft gasps and choice swears from the redhead below, pale eyes forced closed in ecstasy. 

“Peace…” She trailed off as Selene slid her tongue across her skin, too caught up in sensation to form words.

Pausing her assault on the girl’s chest, “Aiel on first glance, swears like a Shienaran, all while claiming to be from the Two Rivers. Unusually well travelled for a farmhand.”

“I-,” A whine interrupted her response and Lanfear couldn’t help the smile that formed at how desperate she was, “Had a- a long - fuck - journey here… With some detours.”

“And i intend on hearing that story in full, another time.” With this, her hand slipped between her legs and wasted no time in finding her clit, never stopping the movement of her lips and successfully dragging a guttaral groan from her beautiful Dragon. And she was beautiful, more so than Lews had ever been. Anything enticing about him had originated from his strength, rather than his looks. A strong beak of a nose and coarse hair, eyes that never seemed to show emotion. All things that lent him an air of power, but did nothing to lend him her heart. But Ellyse was none of these. Her features were delicate, hair thick and soft and the colour of the setting sun. Beauty unlike that which Lanfear possessed, yet differing from most in that it was not dulled by standing near her, rather it seemed to draw the flower from her bud, to enhance every aspect of her to a level befitting the person Lanfear had chosen to stand aside, to turn her from a simple farmhand to the Dragon Reborn. The sun and moon, Bringer of Light and the Daughter of the Night, united in glory. And when the time came, she would take the glory. Selene would make sure of it. But for now, her fingers found their way to her entrance, slow and deliberate. Waiting for that telltale panting of want before she pushed inside, velvet smoothness surrounding two digits, the wetness dripping onto the sheets more than enough for her to start moving. Pounding in and out, in and out, thumb working her clit and tongue still laying waste to her breasts until she came, body rippling like tremulous petals, saidin threatening to overflow its confines and burst free, tongues of flame coiling sinuously around the two forms on the bed, visible only to those select few who had seen the tainted power at work before. Ever a giving lover, she fucked her through it, praising the Pattern that Ellyse’s eyes had closed before the power had escaped and she would have had to either lie or reveal herself, and it was too early for that yet. Soon, with any luck.

Hearing her true name from the Dragon’s lips, in this lifetime, was what she craved more so than owning her body. He had had her as Mierin, the wunderkind physicist, still not entirely sure of her place in the world. Since then, she had created that place. Created the person to fill it. Chosen of the Dark One, instrumental in freeing him. A story told to frighten children into good behaviour. Stronger than today’s Aes Sedai could ever dream of being, even with their few remaining angreal. A threat to everything they were currently working towards. And how she delighted in it. What joy it was to finally be stronger than those who would silence her, both in the power and politically. Their web of Darkfriend supporters was woven deep into the aristocracy and spread from those highest in their respective cities to the lowliest peasant, with men enough for grunt work of the kind you didn’t return from and the Black Ajah to tug on those strings that she herself was too high up to bother handling. Yes, Ellyse would know her strength soon. Know just how special she was, how special they both were. 

Her eyes were fluttering back open by this time, face slack save a dreamy smile that soon shifted as Lanfear slammed a hand around her neck. Pinning her to the bed, she crashed their lips together once more, another rough, demanding kiss, taking advantage of her surprise to work her tongue in, swallowing back the moans both women let out. Thin rivulets of sweat rode towards the sheets, fighting to find a space the two weren’t pressed against each other to slide along. Delicate strands of saliva webbed over the wrist that remained around Ellyse’s throat as she abruptly pulled back, pinning her with a stare so intense what little breath she could draw caught in her throat and every hair along her arms rose. Something akin to fear polluted those grey eyes, no longer sleepy but wide and alert. One brow arched in a silent question.

“You’re mine.”

Waiting was no longer an option. Her tone left no question in the matter, and gave the girl no options aside from the obvious. She found herself more stuck on Ellyse than she had ever been on Lews. He had been perfectly delightful for a time, but the monotony of it all had gotten to her in the end. She had been his first priority, his chief opinion, the one he trusted above all others. For a time. Too soon, he had seemed to grow bored of her. Everything was more important. Her achievements had been second wind to whatever his latest flight of fancy was. So she had adapted. Planted the idea for his next delusion after becoming a master at it. Mirroring him oh so fucking perfectly, right up until the day he looked too closely. The cracks were fine, yet they ran end to end. Falling apart with the slightest pressure, one lingering glance and sordid conversation was enough to shatter the life she had so carefully constructed for herself. Never again. Never again would she make that mistake.

Seeing her like this, with such exquisite longing drawn across her features even while hopelessly overpowered; from the trusting softness in her eyes to the set curve of her throat, pushing slightly at the hand restraining her as if trying to get closer still, apparently forgetting they were all but conjoined from the hips down, inspired this sudden fierce possessiveness. Praise the Dark One and the Pattern and even the Creator himself for allowing a Dragon as perfect as Ellyse. One so superbly isolated from her loved ones, wondrously scorned by the Aes Sedai claiming to act in the name of the Light, and so desperate for the slightest scrap of affection that she had come running the instant Lanfear opened her arms - both literally and metaphorically. She had awoken in this age looking to find Lews again, intent on remedying her past mistakes with a sugar shell and sweet words, but she was certainly a welcome surprise. She may have been all that was left of him, but he was only a fragment of her. His resolve, his raw strength, and the tempest of his anger were all evident, yet she controlled them in ways that would have been foreign to the Dragon of old, tempered the aggression saidin wrought with a gentleness Lanfear had not thought possible from someone in such circumstances as she and yet still bending the tainted power to her will with all the delicacies of a hammer striking hot steel. The battle against the male power was not an easy one for any man, let alone a woman in possession of the soul of a man three thousand years dead without any shred remaining of his sanity. She had given so much already, leaving everyone she knew behind so as not to risk one day hurting them if the madness claimed her also and she lived up to the Kinslayer’s legacy. Noble intentions, truly. But a futile effort in the end. Day by day, Lanfear could sense saidin rooting itself deeper and deeper within the girl, occupying the shadowed recesses of her mind and whispering into her dreams. These, not even the Daughter of the Night herself could keep from reaching Ellyse in Tel’aran’rhiod. She would need to swear her oaths to stop the decay, and the chances of her doing that were slim as of now, unless she had seriously misjudged the poor child.

But here and now that was of little consequence. Any influence the Dark had had over her was weak, yet enough to bring about certain… changes. Only noticeable to one sharing a bed with her. A self assuredness overtook her at times, the shy smile making way for a confident smirk, one that said she knew exactly what you were thinking and exactly why you were thinking it, well on its way to being on par with Lanfear’s own. In nights past it had been Ellyse holding her by the throat, nights when she had left no sign of her presence and allowed a frustrated woman to walk in and see someone seemingly only wanting her body when she so desperately needed to speak and be heard. Nights when what she had truly needed was to take control over something, someone, and feed that lust for power buried deep within. This Dragon did so like to deny what she was, who she was, and yet it was only by accepting it that these trysts she so enjoyed could blossom into true partnership. 

Selene would be more than happy with Ellyse, but Lanfear would settle for nobody short of the Dragon.

Those damned wrinkles formed around her eyes as she laughed lightly in response to her lovers sudden possessiveness, “For now and for always, Selene.”

This reckless confession dragged to the surface memories of Lews saying much the same. By the Light, they were so much the same. If she were to… No. No. She wouldn’t. All the girl needed was time. A few months was nothing. These few months had simply been ground work. Laying the foundation for her grand scheme. Enamouring Ellyse with exactly what she needed most, before slowly revealing her true self. Well, what little there was left to reveal. Selene, at times, seemed to be more her than Lanfear. Selene could be soft, show emotion without worrying about it being construed as weakness. Daes Dae’mar had nothing on the scheming of the Chosen, and if any of the others were around to catch wind of Ellyse being the Dragon, her perfect romance would never have bloomed. Well, Ishamael was free also, but him and her alone understood the allure of the Dragon, of Lews Therin walking the world once more. He knew exactly how beneficial having her hopelessly in love with one of the Forsaken could be. After all, loving Lews was what had driven Lanfear to swear her oaths. It was inevitable that loving her should send Ellyse down the path of the Shadow also.

But for now, she had a beautiful woman underneath her and she intended to take every possible second of pleasure. Her easy smile at declaring herself Selene’s belied the hand creeping towards her core, parting her legs and flipping them so that she was on top in one smooth motion, grinning at the shock on Lanfear’s face even while she pulled her closer. This kiss was softer, fitting of the words not long spoken, gentle movements and muffled groans filling the room. Ellyse raised one knee and she wasted no time in grinding against it, those gentle groans replaced with a sudden gasp at the much needed friction. Her Dragon chuckled at this show of want, slipping two fingers inside of her and relishing in her wanton moan at the sensation. She kept the kiss going even as her fingers sped up and it became more and more one sided, all of Selene’s energy going into arching to meet her thrusts to get herself there. Her fingers scissored inside her walls as they plunged in, thumb finding her clit in moments and marking swift circles, drawing her closer and closer with every clever flick of her wrist. She suddenly forced them closer, slipping her tongue into her mouth and drinking down every little sound that escaped as she came, never slowing and showing no signs of stopping, pressuring her still shaking body into a second orgasm and only relenting after Selene’s shuddering subsided.

“Careful, I might start thinking you like me.” All things considered, her tone was surprisingly even, though her breathlessness somewhat ruined the playacting.

Ever quick to play along, her Dragon, her wonderful Dragon, replied, “Well, we wouldn’t want that, now would we?” She punctuated her words with a tender kiss, rolling over to rest her head on Lanfear’s chest, absently tracing patterns against her stomach. “I’m sorry if that was too much, I just-

She was cut off by a swift laugh, Lanfear pressing a kiss to the crown of her head and wrapping both arms around her slight frame. “You’d know if it was too much. I am a woman of many attributes, one of which happens to be my fabulous libido. If you ever tried anything at all that i didn’t like, I would find a way to let you know, okay? Just like you would tell me if you ever weren’t enjoying something I introduced.” True, however unlikely it was. One area in which Lews and Ellyse scarcely differed at all was sexual preferences. She liked what he had liked, and what he had liked, Mierin had mastered. But back to the present.

“Want me to get the candle?”

“Please.”

As she rose from the bed, her hair swung behind her, a solid red mass of snarls and frizz thanks to the friction of the sheets.

“Forget the candle, bring your hairbrush over here.”

“Why?”

“Because, your hair is ruined sweetheart, let me help. After all, this is thanks to me and I like making you feel good.”

A truly gorgeous grin bloomed across her face at these words, one so full of unadulterated happiness that she stumbled on her way back across the room, all but dropping the brush onto the bed.

“Come on, let me get fresh sheets while you find something to tie your hair off with. If you don’t have anything, there should be something in my room.”

She nodded and threw a greatcoat across her shoulders for the walk to Selene’s room, all the way on the other side of the inn, leaving Lanfear free to freshen the sheets, weaving flows of air and water to draw everything undesirable from the bedding and thoroughly wash it, rather than trekking to the linen closet that was all of two doors down the hall. While she was at it, she briefly scrubbed herself down and expelled any unwanted fluids. Nobody could possibly sleep comfortably while not being properly clean. By the time she was finished with all of this, Ellyse was back, thin leather cord in hand and coat abandoned on the floor.

“Perfect, now come here and sit.” She patted the space between her thighs on the bed, lightly pulling her endless amounts of hair to her back as she began parting it to brush through. Over half of the shapeless mass was placed back over her shoulder so as to separate it from the hank being brushed, only to then have another section taken from it as the first was smoothed over her other shoulder. The work was slow and methodical, the thickness of her hair necessitating a gentle hand and the patience of one who had been imprisoned for millenia. Working from the bottom to the top had always yielded the best, least painful results on her own hair, so this was the technique she favoured for her Dragon. She seemed to enjoy the attention, watching the candlelight flicker around the room and talking of everything and nothing, a fresh topic with every brushstroke. Once the detangling was over, she divided the hair into nine sections, braiding it into three before twisting them together into one elaborate braid that would hang to her waist, but was currently snaking over the sheets as she lay back and smiled up in thanks.

“That was… Incredible. Nobody has done anything like that for me, well, ever,” She confessed. “Can I-” Nerves seemed to cut her off, despite their earlier activities. “Can I brush yours? I promise I’ll be gentle.” That shy grin was awful, capable of levelling cities and destroying nations. Of course, only when it was directed at Lanfear.

“Come on then, let me sit.”

The girl scrambled to take Selene’s place, straddling the elder and gently running a hand through her hair to see what she was working with.

“God, everything about you is beautiful.”

This praise shouldn’t have effected her as much as it did. Blushing like a maiden at her first bedding over a simple truth! She was better than this.

She took the brush in hand and simply began, with none of the careful strategy Selene had had, just tugging it from midway down to the end and letting the hair bounce back up into the waves it liked to fall into.

“So where did you get the tie? It’s pretty and it felt like it was a good one, not the cheap kind traders always brought to the Two Rivers that snapped after two uses.”

“Oh, the markets in Cairhien are always reliable for odds and ends like that, but if you truly want the best of the best, you’re much better off wandering the Foregate for a time.”

Confusion filled her voice. “The Foregate??”

“Yes, the people here spend far more time making these things than the people in the city proper, and often use better materials too. Yes, you may pay a little more, but whats a few extra pennies for something that I’ll use forever.”

“Huh, remind me to consult you before I go shopping next.”

“Please, you wouldn’t last an hour walking alone in the Foregate. Pretty little things are almost always taken for noblewomen in disguise. Trust me, you don’t want that happening.”

“So whatever must you do?”

Stifling a laugh, she turned to face Ellyse, resting a hand on her knee as she replied, “They take one look at me and think better of it.” This ominous statement was accompanied by a sugar sweet smile, one designed to fool showoff noblemen looking for an easy boost to their egos. But Ellyse was sharper than them.

“Good thing I like my women a little dangerous.”

Both women were suddenly laughing, clutching at one another’s arms as they tried desperately to stop, to calm themselves.

Still struggling to catch her breath, Ellyse managed to get a complete sentence out, “Come on, lie down and I’ll get the candle.”

Residual giggles saw the candle, wick burning lower and lower, blown out and the Dragon curled securely in Lanfear’s arms.

“You know, you’re stunning when you laugh like that.” Something about this sleepy confession dug through the layers of carefully crafted personas that made up Lanfear. All of a sudden she really was just Selene, falling asleep with her lover in the inn she owned, rather than the terrifying creature who orchestrated the entire relationship, from obtaining inns all over not just the Foregate but in Cairhien proper also, not knowing where Ellyse would choose to stay. In hindsight, the Foregate was the obvious choice, but then hindsight is always clearer, to ensuring her salary remained below the rent through a mixture of false charges and bribing the sanitarium staff. This entire thing was false, so why did falling for Ellyse seem so real? Lews was perfectly fine. A man, a symbol of power, of status. Someone she would not have minded using, standing by him as long as it was beneficial to her and leaving the moment it was not. She would have taken what he had in a heartbeat had it been possible. But she was different. She… She was so pure. The world hadn’t spoiled her yet. Lanfear, Daughter of the Night, second only to Ishamael in terms of power,  set the world aflame and dance amongst the ashes to see the Dragon Reborn smile, to be the reason that effervescent smile spread across her cheeks. She knew who she was, and yet she still saw the light in everything. And the reverence in her eyes when she looked at Selene… If only she could moan her true name. The day that happened, she swore on everything she had, she would properly celebrate. With wine, and her woman. Preferably all day, on every available surface, the Great Plan be damned. Evil could take a day off so that its perpetrators could get thoroughly laid.

One thing that bothered her though. Despite Ellyse knowing that she was indeed the Dragon Reborn, she had taken no steps towards mastering her power. Or even understanding it at the most basic level. However strong she may think she was right now, it was but a fraction of what she could be with training. Training that she could not provide, aside from the foundations of control. Not setting fires in her sleep and such. But the true depths of saidin… To master it she would need someone familiar in the power. Ishamael, or Asmodean perhaps. No matter, that bridge could be crossed later. When she was trained, the two of them would be unstoppable. The two halves of the power, working in unison for the first time since the Age of Legends. Now that was something worthy of her and her Dragon. Nothing short of miraculous would be enough. The things they could do with those weaves were damn near limitless. They could tear down the world and remake it in their image, teach those failures of Aes Sedai what true control was.

But here, in this moment, all that mattered was Ellyse’s even breathing as her head rested once again over her breast, one hand idly tapping at the sheets in her slumber. Choosing to forego an appearance in her dreams tonight, she simply lay there and enjoyed the moment. That steady thud as her finger collided with the material over and over gradually became an annoyance. One that she tried to block out, focusing her mind elsewhere until she could not anymore, using wind to plug her ears until the sensation of pressure building became too much, even going so far as to attempt moving her arm as she slept. Finally, she tried slipping her own hand underneath Ellyse’s, successfully blocking the target of the infernal knocking. What she did not anticipate was the way the sleeping Dragon clasped her hand, holding it as though it was a lifeline. This simple act was enough to confirm what she had suspected for a while, though that suspicion had come to a head tonight. Ellyse truly was different from Lews, in that she had successfully caught Lanfear’s heart.

-

tags, couple people who asked to be tagged and a few randoms bcs i dont have a taglist sorry if u didnt wanna be tagged <33

@lanfear-is-my-darkmistress @eve-is-obsessed @hahnspoetrywrites @lanfearswife @moon3thereal @ofthebrownajah

[pillowfriends]

wheel of time drabble: september

Moiraine/Siuan, Moiraine & Lan & Siuan

Modern AU, 200 words

From prompt: "September started very badly"

-

September started very badly.

It was uncomfortably hot in Tar Valon. Siuan loved it. Moiraine and Lan glared at her and sweated irritably in front of the box fan.

Siuan’s father called. His disability payments were ending. After harried phone calls, budget spreadsheets, and frustrated tears, she took out another student loan.

The heat and start of term approaching made Lan sluggish, gloomy. He dragged himself out of bed at five am to run. Then five became six. Then seven. Then he stopped getting up until Moiraine threw an ice cube at him and dragged him to the pool.

Moiraine’s father called too. The family missed her – she hadn’t visited in so long – couldn’t she come back for the sponsor dinner her uncle was hosting next month, there were rumors. If you miss me, Moiraine said harshly, why do you only call when you need something? Then – I’ll visit if I can bring my girlfriend.

That killed the conversation fast. She cried for twenty minutes into Siuan’s hair.

Next week will be better, Siuan whispered into the night as Moiraine kissed her forehead, snuggled halfway in Lan’s lap. Part prayer, part demand, all fiery protectiveness and steadfast hope. It will.

[hecatesbroom]

Fanfic masterlist

Considering I'm trying to post more of the stuff I write, I figured I'd make a little fanfic masterpost while I'm at it, to encourage myself! (Because if anything encourages me, it's getting to add stuff to lists lmao)

Grace and Frankie

happiness (noun) /ˈhæp.i.nəs/ | 10k one-shot | Grace/Frankie | Grace Hanson doesn't do happiness. A character study of Grace, and her relationship with happiness, and her relationship with lots of people, really.

The Golden Girls

One in four | 1.5k one-shot | a little Dorothy character study, exploring her sexuality (because I've decided she's queer, thank you very much)

and my heart beats so that I can hardly speak | 2.2k one-shot | Dorothy/Rose/Blanche | when Blanche kisses Rose’s cheek, Dorothy tries not to think of how it makes her feel — and fails spectacularly. Inspired by this adorable drawing!

the finish line | 6.7k, 2/2 chapters | Dorothy/Rose/Blanche | my attempt to reconcile Dorothy's marriage to Lucas with aforementioned ship. Lying awake in her new bed, in her new home, next to her new husband, Dorothy tries not to cry herself to sleep for the umpteenth time since getting married. She reflects on what really brought her here — and she finally faces up to the fears that pushed her over the edge.

haven't got a heart to stand those memories / when my heart is still with you | 3.6k one-shot (follow-up to the finish line) | Dorothy/Rose/Blanche | Blanche lies awake at night, thinking. Wondering where she went wrong — wondering if maybe, it's her fault that Dorothy left them.

Farewell to a Daughter (in C Major) | 1.7k one-shot | Sophia & Dorothy | When Dorothy walks down the aisle for the first time, sometime in the 1950s, Sophia mourns the loss of her daughter.

Signed "forever and only yours, Isaac Newton" | 1.6k one-shot | Blanche/Rose/Dorothy | A little exploration of Blanche's feelings in season 2's "Love, Rose", in which Blanche and Dorothy write love letters to Rose. (They know they mean every word they come up with, and they're not quite ready to consider the implications.)

And my heart is set on you | 2k one-shot | Blanche/Rose | the Grease-inspired AU I never thought I'd write, but here we are I guess!

I'm tired of wanting more / I think I'm finally worn | 5.5k one-shot | Dorothy has been tired all her life; CFS is a different beast entirely, but it brings back memories. A retrospective of Dorothy's life, exploring her chronic fatigue and the exhaustion she felt in the years before, during her marriage to Stan. (Find an additional drabble here!)

Tumblr ficlets | ongoing | thanks to brain fog, I decided to start a little low pressure project to keep myself occupied: writing little explorations of some of the Girls' gayest scenes. You can find all parts in the reblogs of my main post (linked here)

The dip | 1k ficlet | rose/dorothy | expanded and edited version of one of my tumblr ficlets. Dorothy dips Rose during the dance marathon; Rose isn't sure what to do about her feelings.

Ivy | drabbles, 623 words | two ways Dorothy tries to cope with being away from Rose and Blanche, after the finale

sleeping with a woman | 3.7k one-shot | blanche/rose/dorothy (implied) | “Can you imagine sleeping with a woman?” Rose asks one night. Sophia has the time of her life watching the consequences play out.

and though it's just a line to you / for me it's true, it never seemed so right before | 5k one-shot | blanche/dorothy | Insulting her is the only way Blanche knows how to pierce Dorothy’s shell, without exposing the depths of her own soul in the process. // Blanche tells Dorothy the truth, just once, in the Rusty Anchor's restroom.

Vulnerability in The Golden Girls - an essay | 8k essay (yup, that title wasn't a joke) | Vulnerability and emotional moments: themes left far from underexplored in The Golden Girls. But how exactly do our four Girls handle these feelings — and how do the show's writing and genre play into their individual relationships towards vulnerability? In this essay I will-

but oh, my dear / our love is here to stay | 4.3k one-shot | blanche/rose/dorothy | When Dorothy mentions she’s never been dipped before, Blanche and Rose conspire to change that.

(memories of) a mother's love | 8.2k one-shot | blanche/rose/dorothy | an exploration of S02E01: end of the curse, the distant past, and what happens in between

the odd one(s) out | 1k ficlet | Phil looks for an ally in Dorothy, but these are the 1950s — and not everyone is brave enough to be themselves just yet.

Maude

it's still the same old story | 5k one-shot | Maude/Vivian | what started out as a drabble exploring Maude's feelings for Vivian, turned into a 5k introspective piece about the history of their relationship. They're in a cinema and Vivian is watching the movie, but Maude is watching Vivian — and remembering.

The Locked Tomb

So jump and I'm jumping (since there is no me without you) | 4.7k one-shot | Mercymorn & Augustine | After John's assassination and his subsequent resurrection, Augustine reflects on his relationship with Mercymorn. There’s nothing else he finds himself capable of. (A rewrite of the attempted assassination scene, starting right after Mercy's death, with a ton of flashbacks)

But we never get back our youth | 700 word vignette | Palamedes & Camilla | A vignette exploring how Pal and Cam deal with their new reality in NtN – and how, through it all, they've stopped telling each other everything.

The Wheel of Time (tv)

Nothing but the memories | 1k one-shot | Siuan/Moiraine | After exiling Moiraine from the Tower, Siuan is convinced she sent her lover to certain death. A mostly introspective piece/relationship study from Siuan's point of view, in the hut she thinks will never be theirs to share anymore.

The darkness around her | 1.8k one-shot | Lan & Moiraine | Lan worries about Moiraine during a moment of quiet in their journey through the Ways. Because even if she does her best to hide it, he can still feel what she feels through their bond.

To the Manor Born

From Afar | 1.4k one-shot | Brabinger & Audrey | Christmas at Grantleigh hasn't always been as warm as the one of '81. Brabinger reminisces on the change throughout the years; once in '71, and once in '81.